It's Just Life

There’s a sister in the White House!
braiding her daughters hair sitting on the kitchen floor betwixt her long brown legs
cooking chicken flipped and turned in a bowl of white flour
frying hot water cornbread with water from the White House kitchen tap
that satisfying scent she got from her black mamma in the hood
and smellin’ the White House up with sweet potatoes, peach cobbler, black eyed peas, and collard greens on the stove
insisting her children make up their own beds
Whose youth are hopeful and now don’t have so much to loathe
Who is sure to teach her daughters how to pray
And the Lord is still coming soon someday.

We have a Black First Lady y’all
inspiring our daughters to love their blackness
It might not be so hard for the children of the folks who enslaved us to accept the African American president born to a Kenyan daddy
but the First Lady spot was always beheld as this nation’s symbol of a lady
a sentimental mother THEIR beloved housewife with the occupation
held high, esteemed good quality, distinguished, and refined
Look at that sister sitting on THE pedestal
How will they accept their newly darkened white house redesigned?
The same color as the one coming soon
when the sun will be darkened and we will see blood instead of the moon.

Are they ready to look at this very BLACK woman in THE house?
With her degrees and her austerity and her intellect
Are they really ready to see her as the epitome of the American wife, mother, and first lady
On their White House carpet now walks wide feet like copper with traces of wooly got to be permed hair
Their White House mirrors see her wide nose and thick lips
This confident revolution reared from a black mother and father’s assurance is televised
The legacy of enslaved chocolate dark slave girls calling the Lord’s name
Not even second class, whipped, chained, beaten, and raped in clandestine suites
who does not have to sneak into the white house through the back door to join the President of The United States of America under his sheets
You go my sistah with your beautiful black self.
Their White House has been painted Black.
An occasion for our young daughters to increase their self wealth
An occasion to get our noble, regal, royal, stately, distinguished, dignified, fine back

She Speaks Psalms ISBN 1-60813-056-8 Inspiration, enlightenment, and empowerment for daily living. The author determinedly provides information that is bound to steer her readers to the only source for inner empowerment, The True and Living God. Motivation to live life to its fullest.

It was ten years ago that I laid on my couch waiting for the breath of life to leave me. Silly me, I was not ready to stand before the Lord and justify my actions. It was the pains of living that tried to convince me I couldn't do this living thing anymore. But, The Most High sent my friend and sister April Weaver-Ford to pray for me. After she fearfully drove on the expressway by herself for the first time from the city to the south suburbs, she stretched herself across my body and prayed in my ear. Something I'd obviously forgot to do. Upon hearing the name of Jesus in my ear and hearing her pray and recite scriptures to me, I was able to get up from that couch, accept the Most High as my husband, and LIVE. I'd forgotten just how good God is, how dare I! I beg his forgiveness for allowing bitterness to seep into my heart for a time. It is Jesus who allows my friend Vicqui Clark, all the way in South Carolina, to call or chat with me online each and every time I need encouraging lately. I never hear from her until I am feeling melancholy and subdued and need to be encouraged. She feels it from my posts. He gives her the scriptures to remind me to read. He puts his words in her mouth and she puts it in my ears. I only hope I can be an encouragement for someone in this way. Thank you Lord for giving me another day to get it together and thank you for using my friends. "A friend is like a brother", or sister in this case.

When I walked the streets of Harvey looking for food to feed my children from the food pantries in the area it was Jesus who helped me to find them and carry the food home more than 15 blocks away in some cases. It was Jesus who helped me keep two children in college while trying to feed 3 others alone. When I was struggling to care for my father on his death bed while returning to college to improve the quality of our lives, it was my sister, Lisa Meaders and her husband Minister Darren C. Meaders who took over the care of my sick father and picked up my children after school, feed them, helped them with homework, and cared for them while I worked and went to school. I thank Jesus for putting it in there hearts to help.

When I was faced with the challenge of unemployment for 2 years and came home in the dead of winter to no heat, no lights, no phone, and no water -on occasion all at the same time - it was Jesus who got us out of those jams. When the sunk pump in the basement was completely out of whack and we had water up to our hips and waste backing up through every hole in the house where water should be, it was Jesus who sent a plumber, whom I did not know, to fix the problem at NO charge. I'm saying he was an angel but I'd never seen him before he popped up at my door. I haven't seen him since that day. I don't know who sent him. Many have entertained angels unaware that they were angels. When the hot water heater or boiler went out again, always in the winter, it was Jesus who helped us out of those jams too.

When my car broke down and I couldn’t afford to have it fixed causing me to have no way to get my children to and from school, it was Jesus who put it my sisters, Linda Goodwin’s heart to pay for it and fill up the tank. It was him who put it into her heart to help provide a roof over our heads. It was HIM who provided an income for us, getting us on our feet. It was HIM who healed me when we thought I was on my deathbed, for real this time. It was so serious and inflammation was spreading through me so quickly that my daughter came home from California to begin to make plans to take care of the little ones after I was gone. It was HIM who took away the pain and moved my limbs and let me breathe with ease.

It was Jesus who healed my heart when it was senselessly broken over and over again. It was him who kept me sane and put this smile on my face. It was Jesus who allowed me to overcome the loss of my precious and magnificent mother. It was Jesus who allowed my children to grow up, be educated, compassionate, productive, and unharmed as he taught them to serve him while they figured out how to live.

So, don’t rant and rave about who God is and what I should call him in my ears. I don’t care what YOU call him, I will call him Jesus for as long as there is breath in my lungs because it was Jesus who helped me when I called his name each and every time I needed help. There were no brothers around who claim they love me. There were no sisters around who claim they admire me and are my friend. As a matter of fact, many of these brothers and sisters sat in judgement instead of reaching out their hands to make sure. I hadn't given up on the God we say we serve. Many judged me harshly without all the information, false information, and even downright lies.

Every time I needed help, Jesus was there and I love calling his name! I adore him and he has my devotion. I am so very grateful to Jesus and I thank him for being their when no one else was and for sending the things and people I needed. I behoove you to leave me alone if you don't have anything good to add to my life. I would appreciate it if you would save me the trouble and simply remove yourself.